


A Higher Call

by Silver_thyla



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Implied Violence, Kidnapping, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 17:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8064895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_thyla/pseuds/Silver_thyla
Summary: Set post five year mission. Spock and Kirk have parted acrimoniously, but then the word comes in that Spock has been taken by slavers...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a headcanon musing by quietoceanlove on tumblr. Quiet, I hope this lives up to expectation.
> 
> http://quietoceanlove.tumblr.com/post/126107509469/imagine-that-at-the-end-of-the-five-year-mission

The ship dropped from warp-speed to full stop in an instant, with such violence that the was propelled off his meditation mat and across the cabin. He began to bring his mind out of the deep meditation trance; becoming aware of various small pains consistent with his abrupt landing, however muscly relaxed, onto the harsh surface of floor and wall. As if from a great distance, he heard that familiar sierning of the Red Alert across the ship. Some muscles began to twitch in response, but no, it was not his role now, in this place, to answer the call it made. All that was over, by his own choice.

The wall vibrated, once, twice, again. Hands grabbed at him, yanking him up off the floor.

Orions. All his shields were low and their mental emanations through the contact of skin on skin were as clear as a DNA signature. A brief moment of sever panic surged through him before he could control his emotions properly. Prions worked on their own code to the highest bidder. Romulans, even Klingons had codes, respect.

__

Jim… But no, he had no right to call out for him.

__

Instead he allowed himself to sink back into the trance state, away from what was happening. It was the safest course.

* * *

 

The alert came in at 7.17am. He'd never believed, until the clarity of the clock at that moment that the exact time when news came in could be imprinted on a person's mind so clearly.

_ Vulcan registered transport shuttle  _ Surak _ attacked by Orions at quarter 736, 6.00 starfleet time. Minor damage to shuttle, minor injuries, one passenger taken by Orions. Name of Passenger: S'chan T'gai Spock.. _

The words made no sense in his head, converting to the mental chatter similar to subspace interference. He read them again... Again. Then stared numbly, unseeing, at the computer screen.  This was all just some terrible dream, it wasn't real. But a pen dug into his skin, and the words were still there.

_ Spock. _

From paralysis, came overspeed reaction. He had to do something, had to help. Somehow. There would be a rescue mission... he'd petition the other admirals for command of it. But he heard Komack's steady refined voice in his mind, the voice that could convince anyone of anything; S _ pock has resigned his commission, he is a Vulcan citizen now. The Vulcan's will deal with it, it would hurt their pride if we were to come in unasked for. And Vulcans are very proud. _ No Komack would do nothing unless the Vulcans put in a request. They wouldn't, they'd launch their own rescue mission.

_ To hell with my commission oath, I owe Spock more _

He was halfway through typing the galactic extension for Vulcan before his mind caught up with his heart. He rechecked the alert notice and felt his heart sink. The attack had happened just before the border of Vulcan space. That meant the alert had come here first, then would be sent to the embassy, then relayed onto Vulcan. Sarek and Amanda didn't officially know yet.

He looked down at the communicator in his hand... and knew that, cowardly as it was, he couldn't be the one to give them the information, even if it would be expected of him. It was his fault after all

_ BUT I have to help _

_ Get real Kirk, you don't even have a ship to work with _ .

He punched another number into his personal communicator even as the thought rose into his head

“Hiya Jim, long time.” The cheery, too cheery for his current mood, rang out of the communicator even as the holo pic materialized a few moments later.

He managed a smile for his old friend, then jumped to the point “Hello Billy _..._ I need a ship. Fast, room for a captain and a medbed, supplies for it.”

“How fast are we talking?”

“Warp seven... eight if you can find it”

He saw Billy's eyebrows rise almost to his hair, watched as the other man danced around for a tactful way of putting what Jim already knew.

"They don't come in often Jim, and it won't be cheap."

 

_ I'll pay whatever you ask… anything.  _ His mind yelled  _ I don't care about money, I care about a Vulcan who always stood by me, whatever the cost to himself. You can't put a price on that. _

__

He restrained himself to say "Just let me know when you've got everything, we'll talk  money later." 

__

Billy nodded, and Jim hung up, drawing in deep breaths to pull himself together.

__

There was a part of him that spooked at the depth of his emotions. But he owed Spock his life so many times over, he had to help if only to repay that debt. And he knew he couldn't live with himself if he didn't help his first officer.

__

He drew in a deep breath, laying out the pattern as he had been taught in the Academy to get things done. What did he have? What did he need? He had the promise of a ship to hunt. He needed time, he needed money to pay.

__

He pressed the intercom button and there was the sharp peep as the comma in the two offices connected.

"Admiral?" Lori Ciani, vice admiral playing at Secretary while he settled in. When he considered it he could see that Nogura meant her company both as a spy and a bribe. She was attractive he had to admit. It would be easy to rebound into her arms. Too easy. No bed could replace what he wanted with Spock.

__

“Admiral?” He realised how silent he had sat when he heard the questioning tone in her voice.

__

"Lori, how much leave time have I got stored up?”

__

There was the faint whirr as the computer tied in the questions.

“8 weeks”

“Can you log me on leave as of now?”

“Of course Jim is there anything wrong? Can I help?”

“No nothing's wrong, I've just run to flat batteries. Should have taken the leave when I got back.”He forced a false modesty and self mocking into the words.

He heard a noise which seemed like fond exasperation and knew he had played it just right. "Of course I'll do that Jim. Would you like some company?"

Well that was the most transparent she'd ever been. "No no thanks Lori. I've just had five years in the same surrounding of 400 odd people, some time alone would do me good.

__

Another of her laughs which he had normally found so delightful. Now they just grated on his nerves. That he could have been taken in by such artifice. It was a sour sobering thing, and only marked how raw he had been, torn by slicks leaving and snatching for anything that might fill that hole, or at least make him forget it existed. And Lori had been there. Offering everything.

__

He managed a rote platitude and cut the comm link, forcing himself to organise his desk so any cover officers could find what they needed, confirming the bouncebacks and re-routes for all enquiries to his terminal. Then he grabbed his satchel shoving into it the few personal things he couldn't bear to leave behind, the few things that distinguished his desk from any other plain utilitarian desk in ground Starfleet. He walked out with the fastest stride he could manage without seeming to hurry, reviewing the layout in his mind for the nearest access terminals for finance. There was one in the big common room that ended the admirals’ corridor before the security door, but he ignored it, letting the clear door slide open and admit him into the body of Starfleet organization life. As usual the corridor was mildly busy various people moving this way and that on errands. He paid them little mind, only nodding and giving a polite smile or acknowledge when someone actually hailed him personally.

* * *

The terminal was in a side area, empty of people. As it felt his shadow drop over it the computer chirped. Kirk keyed in the access code, placed his fingers on the sensor and waited for the retina scan.that was the other resin he had chosen this terminal, it was one of those that while voice triggered could also be worked silently. His account display came up, showing the amount he had there. Not enough. He tapped in another code, then pressed his thumb on the button. The computer fished blinked and whirring warning that this action was irrevocable, the thumbprint had sealed it.

"Transfer of pension proxy to credit chip complete."

“Sign out"

The computer made a high peep of compliance then closed back to it's normal screen. He didn't spare it another glance.

* * *

 

Packed bags sat by the door of his apartment, their presence a plague on his nerves. He wanted to be off. To be doing, hunting.

Making amends his mind supplied and he swatted the thought away, plumping down at his home terminal and calling the Vulcan border map on the screen. He stared at them, searching for clues, answers. The pirates had chosen well, just at the crossover where neither side would be able to come to the rescue if they were fast. Warp in, knock the transport, grab, warp out. No doubt Starfleet would instigate a convoy system now, after the horse was stolen.

But the map couldn't tell him where Spock was, couldn't tell him which way the Orions had gone. He'd need to be out in space for that. 

The only thing it did do he considered, as he ran a finger lightly over the screen, was offer up the possibility of a shorter route than the traditional one. It was risky, less guarded there were astrometric reasons why the route the normal couriers took was that one. But the watching of the traditional route hadn’t helped Spock in the slightest And time was of the essence.

He stared at the screen, considering and reconsidering the route until his eyelids dropped.

* * *

__

Shrill screeching from his comm unit jolted him rudely to consciousness and he stabbed at the buttons to answer it even as he blinked his eyes back into working.

Billy sounded slightly dazed “Jim, I don’t know what luck fairy you’ve got on your shoulder, but would you consider a loan…”

His brain found forward gear with the long practise of red alerts “A ship’s come in?”

“Come down to the dock and see what you think of her.”

“Name of  _ Fidelia _ , Registration AN-537. Warp capability as you asked for.Only one cabin, but a med-bed set there already, I’ve had one of the others check and it takes all specs of Xeno, so you’ll be fine on that score..” Billy glanced at him, lifting his eyes from the papers “You setting yourself up as a Flying Doctor, Jim?”

He shook his head, scanning over the ship, reviving the engineers instinct he’d had at the academy. Her control boards and indicators looked sound enough. Whoever had owned her before kept her in good condition “Warp Core checks?”

“All in order. I took the liberty of ordering up those supplies you wanted too.”

He pulled his eyes away from their perusal of the wiring and rose from his crouch “You guessed that I’d take her, now how much?”

Billy blinked but held his composure “To anyone else, hundreds of thousands. For you Jim, 20,000. Old friends discount.”

He shook his hand and pulled out his chip “I’ll put another 500 on that if you keep the paperwork quiet for a while, I don’t needs the brass on my tail.”

Billy nodded, pulling another smile, old friend rather than business partner “Pulling a sabbatical Jim"

Jim shrugged,still scanning over the room even as he marked the paperwork. The medbed was one side to the back, all the consoles at the front. It was basically a super powered shuttle. Any other time the crew would have been guessing at it's history. "Something like that"

"Be careful"

The door had closed behind Billy before Jim realised his friend had left. He sat himself down in the pilot's seat. But none of the usual comfort from the maneuver rode up around him. This wasn't the Enterprise. He pressed the button and the boards hummed into life. Then he reached out and flicked the hailing switch

Space dock east this is, he checked the register number “AN-537 requests permission to uncouple and come into wide orbit."

"Roger AN-537 I see no flight plan for that  number."

Too true, he hadn't got that far "Planned course Vulcan, but by way of Hareth gas cloud

“Thank you AN-537, you are clear for undocking and orbital flight”

They signed off. He flicked the thruster switches, then held them at stationkeeping for a moment, gauging the feel of the thrusters, the possibility of the ship. Then he rolled them into impulse ¼ forward. The ship respond sliding out of it’s place and into the stars. The ship handled nicely to his commands as he turned south eastwards -out into the solar system. But very quickly, as responsive as Fidelia was, almost like a dream, his fingers began to itch. Flying through the planets at impulse was all very well for a farewell or a press flight. At last he saw the marker which meant he was clear of Pluto’s gravity field, and threw the warp gears into engagement. The pattern of the stars swung into the strange but familiar waves which marked being in the warp field, between the matrixes which held space together 

“I’m coming Spock, hang on in there.”

* * *

 

She didn’t remember screaming, only that there was a terrible wailing cry ringing around the room, striking her heart, her ears. She gasped, but the air wouldn’t fill her lungs. “No”

But it was true. She had felt something, waking out of a sound sleep to a sudden burst of terror, of doom. Then nothing. And she’d simply gone back to sleep, shaken, but fine. When as it turned out, life was anything but.

“Amanda?” She felt Sarek’s hands on her shoulders as if they were nothing, echoes of their true power. Somehow, even though she couldn’t find the bond through the maelstrom it gave her strength. She straightened up, twisting to face him, and reaching out to grasp his hand where it sat on her shoulder 

“We have to do something. Sarek, he’s our son.”

His face was inscrutable, even his eyes, which often gave him away and when she tested the bond she found it clamped shut against her.

“Do you not think that the people who took him will be waiting for such a reaction, that we may put him in even more danger by doing so.” His voice was level, blank, his diplomat’s voice for an unreasonable opponent.

“Maybe’s, possible reactions. You’d leave it at that.” She stood up, yanking herself away, pain turning to strange rage, “Get out of here Sarek, unless you can be useful.”

She heard him striding away, the door close behind him, then the click of the front door, and let herself crumple to the floor with a cry.

__

She heard Sarek come back, the soft clip of his footsteps on the stone, the noise of the door opening

“Amanda I believe it would be logical to get dressed in something other than your night wear.”

“Why?” Why did the world have to carry on when a key part of it had just fallen apart.

“T’Pau has given the order, A distress notice has gone out to all our ships and  _ T’Planahath  _ launches in an hour.”

Slowly she began to push herself off the stone floor, only to find him crouching down to help her, drawing her into his arms. Now he did unblock the bond, unleashing a wave of grief, self-blame for previous actions, fury and pain that that fury could only swirl impotently rather than be directed at those who had harmed his family. She slipped her arms around him and held on tightly, whether for his benefit or her own she wasn’t sure.

“We’ll find him.” Now it was her turn to shield the bond, holding her thoughts to herself  _ We have to _

* * *

 

He dropped  _ Fidelia  _ out of warp just outside the attack quadrant, then started to scan the area. Ships going to warp always left a disturbance trail behind them,even cloaked ships. He settled into his seat and yawned, mentally shaking himself out of the dose he had dropped into while the ship was in warp. He maneuvered the thruster knobs, working a search pattern across the blank space. Price after piece the scanner screen came up blank and he found himself musing. Everyone thought space travel was exciting. In reality it was 80% boredom, 5% mad panic, 10% interesting exploration, 5% amusement. Yet every time something exciting happened you forgot the boredom which had just preceded it.

The scanners picked up something, slashing across the screen from left to right and he leant forward in a habitual reaction. A warp trail, several warp trails all over each other, all going in the same direction. The Earth to Vulcan Transport route.

Something akin to triumph as he turned the ship to run parallel to the warp track, switching the scanner so that it still followed the disturbance in space. This ship was a wonder of technology. He stared at the screen, making the slight course adjustments without even looking at the controls.

There!

The ship trail abruptly cut out, leaving blank space with impulse emission all over it. He inched closer, sending the scanning on a wider loop. That was where the ship had been attacked, knocked out of it's warp flow. And there, almost on top of it was another ghost, except this one ran perpendicular. The Orions had a cloak from somewhere, but he had a good eye.

He turned the ship into the warp ghost and edged up to warp one. Sure enough, it was far easier to see in between spaces as he was. A sign post really. Whoever had taken Spock obviously had the guts to not be frightened of the Federation or didn’t believe they would be followed.

_ Wrong on both counts _

He pushed the lever forwards, leaping the warp score up and up until it settled at seven, a compromise between the speed of the ship and not making too much of an entrance wherever he was going.

* * *

__

Spock had no idea whether the mental assault he was being subjected to was planned or unintentional due to the projections of his captors, and he saw no logic in expending further energy to analyse the facts. He threw up what walls he could and cowered behind them as the emotions slammed into him, gashing his psyche with more pain than a knife on his skin.

The brutality behind all of them made his stomach twist.

_ Dock your ears, pointed one, slowly slowly, with a cold knife. Then no-one will know he’s Vulcan _

_ Fingers, break them, nerve them. _

_ Think of something else, anything else. _

__

_ Jim’s smile when he’d appeared after the disaster which was the koon-ut-kal-if-fee, the joy he had felt on seeing that slightly tilted movement the soft glint in the eyes. Knowing that his captain, his friend was still alive.  Jim had never made an issue of his family heritage, only in jest that was meant to help him come to terms with it, he wasn’t even sure on reflection if the captain knew what he was doing. And he’d always been there. Even in that moment, that terrible moment when the Romulans had been revealed to them and Spock had found himself looking at a carbon copy of his father. Others would have let baily’s comment go by, pretended not to hear it. Jim had rounded on him and made a point of it. _

__

_ The little flicker he felt every time the man had teased him, smiled at him. _

__

_ He walked along the Enterprise corridors, unusually empty and calm even for evening shift. But then it was logical. Tomorrow they would be back in earth space and almost to where most of the crew called home. There had certainly been much mention of parties amongst his science staff and every other crew member of yeoman and below he had passed during the preceding days. Even after five years Spock had to admit that he found their precocious natures towards the events  a little strange, but this time perhaps there was in fact a logical reason.  _

_ He would not attend the parties, but he had not been able to find a logical reason to dismiss the Captain’s invitation for a final, off the record meeting in his quarters. Nor if he was entirely honest, had he wanted to do so. _

_ He stopped in front of the captain’s  door and pressed the button to trigger the chime _

_ “Come”  _

_ The door slid open  to admit him, he took two steps inside then stopped. Somewhere the captain had managed to commandeer another proper table, and both chairs from the room were placed by it. His captain stood by the side, and gave him a sheepish smile "I fancied making an effort for our last ship board meal. He glanced over at the desk "Unfortunately the meal itself is still replicated." _

_ It has been proven that the situation regarding a meal will improve the taste, I have no doubt this will do the same." _

_ Jim gave him a light smile and gestured at the table "Please, be seated, Mr Spock." _

__

_ "What do you intend to do, once we dock at Earth?" _

_ He noticed how Jim avoided the usual human pitfall of saying 'now' and getting a direct literal answer _

_ "My mother insists I spend the first part of my leave time at home, indeed by some extrapolation if records I believe she has also made sure that my father is not otherwise occupied. " He saw Jim grin around a mouthful of vegetarian lasagne, no doubt remembering the his mother's charming but equally taking no nonsense from anyone manner. _

_ "After that... I may attend the VSA to update my knowledge of the latest developments while we have been away. And you?" _

_ Jim sighed, looking suddenly dejected "Starfleet Brass want me to take Admiral rank. A reward for being the first captain to bring such a large proportion of my original crew home in one piece." There was a moment of silence and Spock knew the roll of everyone who hadn't made it back was in front of his captain’s eyes. "If it was up to me, I'd take the prescribed leave then take her straight out again. But she's scheduled for a three year refit, and I can't do much about that." He lapsed into silence, taking another forkful of dinner. He smiled as he swallowed it. "Five years Spock, that's nearly 1/7 of my life out there in the stars, with you at my side… I don't know what I would do without you." _

_ "I have also..." He began to reply, only for Jim to cut him off _

_ "I mean it Spock, I really don't know" Then his captain seemed to stumble briefly, breaking their easy eye contact " And I don't want to find out either. The hazel eyes snapped back up to him, intent. " You are the other half I didn't even realize I was missing. I love you Spock and… Marry me Spock." _

_ Spock had a distant awareness he might well be sitting there with his mouth open "Captain..." _

_ "You don't have to answer now Spock, that would be an illogical demand of me. But think on it, please." Jim's eyes. So warm so hopefully pleading. _

_ "I consider it carefully." He rose to his feet, nodded, "Goodnight" _

_ Jim's voice was so warm when he answered "Goodnight Spock." _

_ For proprietary, Spock let himself out into the corridor before walking the few steps along to his own quarters and entering, even though he was well aware it would have been quicker to cut through the shared bathing room between the two suites. _

_ Inside he put the door on it's lock, and settled into meditation, weaving through the normal calming exercises. He needed to carefully examine the exact emotions he held regarding the captain before he could answer the question he had been posed. The uncertainty he felt as he delved was strange. Surely he knew what he felt for his Commanding officer. The loyalty every XO should feel, although many did not. _

_ He looked closer at his actions, analysing them exactly as he would a sample. It was more than loyalty, more than that human friendship which opened the door to death after his PonFarr. If it was simply loyalty, why had he felt such strange pain when he saw Jim and Edith Keeler together, when she had kissed him. Why had he broken his own cultural rules to relieve Jim of the memories of Reyla, with that mind meld. Why had he been so desperate to always have him unharmed. _

_ No. Loyalty was what he held to his clan, to Captain Pike. What he felt for Jim went beyond that...Love. _

_ He pushed himself back, inner core shaking. The emotion had a siren call, alluring, pleasing. It had crept up on him, dug in and now threatened to overwhelm him. _

_ I am a Vulcan. Vulcan’s have emotions yes, but we master them, rule them. We have to. To do otherwise would be He shuddered internally Anarchy. _

_ He wrenched himself out of the meditation, his horror at himself coalescing into certainty. He was naturally more open to emotions because he was part human, only the most logical of Vulcan disciplines would be able to counter something so deep. He rose to his feet and walked to his terminal mind already intent on composing the documents he needed. _

__

Spock drew himself away from that memory, which could only led to greater agony. Only then did he realise that in doing so he was closer to consciousness and receptive once more to what his captors chose to torment him with.

Mental images of the physical torture they threatened if he did not comply. Shadowy figures with a touch of his loved ones turning away or being forced to watch.

_ Jim's smile, Jim's eyes, Jim defending him, risking his life for him. _ Don't think of anything but that.

__

* * *

__

Damn. The warp trail had fizzled out, leaving only the blankness of space around him. Of course no self-respecting pirate especially one with a cargo such as Spock, the only known half Vulcan n existence, son of the Vulcan's most senior ambassador, would leave a trail directly to their front door. He consulted the stars and realised that the course had gone parabolic. He was still technically in the same quadrant, but rather pointedly on the far side of both Klingon and Romulan space. Points to the Orions. No federation crew would be able to get Pugh Herr without being very obvious, if they came out at all. The perfect place to fence goods and dance on what was legal. He felt foolish for expecting even considering it would be anything else.

And only now did he realise the flaw in his plan of rescue, a flaw born at it's very creation. He had been so Keen to be out and on the search and locating Spock, he had not thought of any way of actually getting him. His rank would do no good out here, probably wouldn't have done anywhere with this type of work. And sniff of official and they'd run. But Spock was special. They wouldn't reveal him to just anyone who flew in looking. Especially not this soon after.

How soon had it been? He checked the chronometer on the dashboard, blinked and pressed the button to rouse the ship's auditory functions.

"Computer calculate time from start of journey”

"Five weeks five days 100 minutes"

"Stop", five weeks. He felt a rueful smile on his face. It couldn't really be any less, even allowing for the warp speed. It hadn't seemed that long, but then time had a funny way of behaving in warp,there were no reference points to mark time after.

He rubbed his forehead, aware his mind was wandering. He still had to find Spock, somewhere in this vastness.

“Computer known information on the Orion slave culture.”

The view screen rolled it up in spools. 

Took slaves when and where they could.

Two different operating systems, auction houses, seen as low class handling regular levels of goods. Private merchant individual transactions, those higher class buyers. 

Well, he sat back, he'd be looking for one of those selling a half Vulcan on common market was foolish economical and professionally. Someone would see and word would get back. And all he'll would come crashing down on the slavers heads from the Federation and from Vulcan as an independent entity.

This sale would be quiet. Procurer meets client, discussion exchange of funds. End of it.

He let his head drop into his propped hands and rubbed at his temples with his thumbs. Somehow he had to infiltrate that.

_ Pull yourself together Kirk, you've bluffed your way through things before. Corbomite, Fizzbinn. Ozmox _

He drew in another deep breath, one-handedly tapping in the command for ship schematics.

Fidelia was small, true. Built for speed, as he'd asked. He considered them, rolling over each view, then calling up the docked pictures. He hadn't paid much attention, but she was a nice looked at first glance. Privately built rather than an official class.

Only high ranks had that,or those with connections

I've dealt with diplomats and nobles, both in one packet sometimes. And he'd dealt with insufferable humans of a similar class too. It would be high stakes poker, but at least this time he'd have some cards to work off. He set his jaw

* * *

__

He stumbled back into Fidelia, leaning on the console. Two houses down, no Spock. The urge to find him was as strong as it had originally been, but there was no direction only a need. He let himself drop into the chair. Everything before had made the mission seem easy. He'd gained his money, his ship and his trail. And now it was hard. Worse to be so close but so far. And to see things which made his heart scream for Spock. He triggered the impulse on habit, mind still on what he left behind. He thought humans or unknown aliens. There had been a Tellerite there, chained but very much cowed. It made his stomach twist. Sarek had been uncharitable with his assessment, but the porcine alien were known for their strong character. He didn't want to think of what force had been used to break that one's spirit.

Spock would be stubborn to. How long would it take before he was worn down and broken in the same way.

He put his head in his hands and let himself cry. Imagining it had been bad, seeing concrete examples made it worse.

* * *

__

Spock fought with himself to remain semi conscious. His body and mind wailed for healing trance, begging to be allowed oblivion and a chance to mend. He couldn't. From what he allowed himself to feel, he knew that the injuries in both were crude enough to take him deep, to the point that even with assistance it might be impossible to rise from it. And he would get no assistance here.

__

Perhaps he should just stop trying, allow his abilities free reign and drift into death. Nothing he was sold into would be more pleasure than this house, unless by some untold miracle a rescue party reached him out here, which from what he could tell in bare awareness was far from the Federation space. But even as he thought it he knew he. Couldn't. Somewhere out there was Jim, unknowing partner in this bond which was his refuge in his mind. He didn't have the strength for shields any more, certainly not of the strength needed for a death seal. If he died, he would take Jim with him. And his captain wouldn't even understand what was happening.

* * *

__

"Calling Tiberius on  _ Fidelia _ "

There was a click as Tiberius, whoever he was, turned on his long range comms "Tiberius here."

Human male, earth human by the accent. Dars activated the microphone at his end once more "Tiberius, I have heard if your search for rarities for your collection."

"Yes..." The human's voice was clearly wary even through the speakers

"I believe I may have something of interest to you."

"Do have many other but they have been incorrect in the assumption."

He spoke with all politeness, “allow me to send coordinates of my home. Come and do business with us." He pressed the buttons and heard the numbers whirring over the com link to this ship's computer.

"I may."

Just as abruptly this contact was gone, not a clue whether he would actually turn up. Eccentric perhaps like other clients, but he had dealt with that. He smiled, scanning over the paperwork. It would be worth this Tiberius coming.

* * *

__

Jim stared at the Coms equipment. He had not solicited that call. He hadn't even had it eavesdropping on other transmissions. A cold chill tickled up g is back. He was becoming known in the Orion syndicate as a buyer, a searcher. He had made effort towards anonymity,he didn't think many people knew his middle name, on almost all Starfleet records it was simply abbreviated. 

And it meant he could be as imperious as he liked and merely claim to be aspiring towards the Roman emperor, or people would assume it if they knew a ghost of earth history.

__

But he didn't like that they had called out to him. It might help, but notoriety was dangerous on a mission like this **. H** e'd go, he couldn't afford not to.  there was no logical or superstitious reason why the seventh he visited should be more fruitful than the last six. But he had to check. He'd check every business in this area if he had to **.**

* * *

__

The base came into view, this one on a small planetoid. He let out a breath of relief he had forgotten he was holding. If things got rough he could simply take off and leave. Space stations had docking clamps which negated that advantage. Then as he narrowed onto official approach you checked the atmosphere not class M in size, but what surrounded it was breathable for most Federation residents including himself. He steered  _ Fidelia _ down, scanning over the landscape as he cut through into view. Plain drab brown really, nothing to write home about as the old saying went. But what he was focused on was seeking out the landing spots. They were he was pleased to see very clearly marked and well separated from each other, forming concentric rings on a large corpus of buildings there was a slight judder as Fidelia touched down in the rock. He ran an eye over the settings and tapped in the code that locked off the access on the computer. Then he rise from the chair, rolling his shoulders, and let the idea of the characters rise in his mind.. He couldn't let it slip for a moment just as he had been taught for the most complex diplomatic negotiation. From now on to all intents and purposes until he took off again he would be Tiberius: confident, in control, rich, picky collector. Interested only in what was for sale and not anything much related to it. He opened the door and climbed down, feeling the solid ground beneath his feet. He looked around, studying the complex of buildings which towered in front of him. In an obscure manner they reminded him if an old earth palace, the facade could have been the Taj or Brighton pavilion.

Someone strode towards him, am Orion, holding out his arms in a gesture of welcome.

* * *

__

_ Bored indifference, make him work, make him talk. _ And stay so far the opposite from his usual demeanor that he wouldn’t slip back in, no matter what he was shown

“We have many things for you to see Tiberius”

“Cut the chatter, I am after rarities.“

The Orion gestured as they passed each room along the corridor “A full tied family of Andorra, Coridion miners. Tiracel, male and female.”

His heart had clenched at every one of those on the list as they had walked past the forcefield rooms which held the captives. But this time he allowed himself to stop. Eiry had been the outermost planet they had visited on the five years mission, bringing in a supply cargo for the inhabitants. They were something like fourth contact for the planet since their inhabitants had created their warp drives. The two hawk like beings stared back at him. Their feather stuck out in odd places on their bodies, rough treatment. But the slate blue male still opened his beak and gaped a silenced challenge, his mate glaring out at Jim with a baleful eye. He nearly smiled, to see that the fiery spirit he remembered from the planet was still there. Then the male spread his wings, and the full force of what was going on around hit home. The long, pointed primary feathers which were a Tiracel's pride and joy had been removed. Not just cut, but systematically pulled out.

This pair wouldn't dance in the air currents, or slice through the sky in a dominant display like an arrow any more.

He forced down a lump that threatened to rise and resumed his mask of indifference. Out the corner if his eye he saw the Orion watch.

"You like them?"

He shrugged "I come for use, as well as ornament."

The Orion blacked the forcefield taking a definite lead this time. "Then Sir, I offer you our price du resistance. You will not find anything like this one anywhere in the galaxy any galaxy. They stopped by a curtain. The Orion smiled "I present him to you." He pulled back on the curtain string

* * *

__

"Good God!" 

Spock sat, or was propped up in a sitting position, by the far wall. But for five-year close company, and some little bird informing him in the back of his mind he wasn't sure he would have recognized his first officer. Spock had always been slim, now the bones in his face stood out as if they had been carved from stone. The meditation robe, grimy and besmirched in it's own right, drooped to reveal angry contusions circling the Vulcan wrists. They were worse than physical shackles. On his forehead, streaks of dark green. 

Dried blood.

_ Spock, what have they done to you? _

“He is unique, the only Half-Vulcan in existence. You did say that you were looking for rarities. That will of course have an effect on the price.”

He forced himself into Tiberius’ mindset, letting anger and scorn rise in his voice “Rarities, not liabilities. Since you know so much about him, you’ll know that his Father is THE senior Vulcan Ambassador in the Federation. They’ll have every ship in every fleet tearing the galaxies apart looking for him.” He glared at the Orion “I rather think that requires a reduction in costs for danger…” 

The Orion scented a deal, he’d been too obvious “Shall we say 200,000 credits?” 

He didn’t have that much, not even close. He turned his gaze back to Spock, fueling the fire of his anger, scoffing. “In that state? He won’t be fit for anything but earning healers’ money for months. Assuming I can even find a healer to treat that physiology.”

“Vulcans and Romulans have remarkable recuperative qualities.”But the Orion sounded uncertain. Good he was getting to him.

“In a fit state, but look at him” He gestured at the forcefield “there’s nothing there.. He’s halfway dead already, shutting down.” 

Clearly the thought that the powers could be reversed had never occurred, the Orion paled 

“Even if he does survive, whatever damage your captors have done to his mind, how likely is it that it will reverse. I’d have a Vulcan in body with delicate health, but none of the skills... “ He raised an eyebrow, issuing a challenge “Now what price would merchandise like that sell for, because I’ll bet you don’t want him on your hands now I’ve seen him.”

It was only after the words had flown out of his mouth, fueled by desperation, not common sense, that he realised he’d as good as signed his own death warrant. They’d shoot him down if he left without Spock, for fear he’d tell on them.

“110,000”

He stared at the other male, trying to mimic that terrifying iciness he’d seen Sarek use.

“100,000.” 

All he had “Done.”

The Orion keyed something into a patch on the wall and the forcefield dropped “We can have your purchase taken to your ship.”

“I’ll take him myself.” He crossed the painted line which marked the force field. 

Spock didn’t move at all in reaction to his footsteps on the floor. He forced himself to walk slowly, to circle, as if inspecting the merchandise he had bought. His heart screamed at him, but he couldn’t blow it now. He nodded, as if he was satisfied, then crouched right in front of Spock, ostensibly to examine him

“Spock” No response. He reached out a hand, placing fingers on the Vulcan’s neck. A pulse thudded under his fingers, slow and muted, but there. He hoped the meditation was the only cause of that. He stood up and gently began to lift spock to his feet,, easing apart the Vulcan’s hands and looping one over his shoulders.

“Come on, up we get, I’ve got you.”

The words sounded trite, even as his shoulders confirmed what his eyes had seen  _ He weighs almost nothing… Bones was always nagging him to eat more, but it’s only a month and a half since i saw him last…  _ He clamped the end of that thought, concentrating on carrying Spock out of the cell, down the corridor past the other cells, on balancing his weight and trying not to drag him. They were halfway before he realised that He wasn’t holding the entirety of the Vulcan’s weight anymore, Spock was stumbling along on his own feet. But Jim didn’t let go, half a side glance was enough to see the grey tone to his friends skin and he knew that if he let go, Spock wouldn’t be able to support himself.

__

It seemed a very long walk back to Fidelia, and Jim allowed himself an inward sigh of relief as he keyed in the code and the door rose on its pivots.Spock slumped against him, step's clearly beyond his semiconscious capabilities. He guided him to sit on them instead, glad that they provided enough support in their steep form to prevent an ignominious heap. He climbed up the other two, reached down… And managed, however awkwardly to hoist Spock into the ship proper, his arms full of limp Vulcan. Gently as he could he set Spock onto the floor, picked himself up, and eased the Vulcan back to his feet.

"Come on, nearly there, then I'll stop tugging at you and you can rest.

Two steps and they were at the med bed. He eased Spock's arm from around his shoulders, letting his torso sink into the steady gel of the mattress, steadying the worn face down onto the pillow with his hands. Under the familiar lighting Spock looked even worse than he had in the cell, all hollows and bones,utterly drained down. He pulled his eyes away, lifting Spock's legs up onto the bed so he lay comfortably.

He reached out a hand, checking himself from running it over the Vulcan's cheek and instead placing it on his shoulder "There. You can sleep now.”

__

He settled himself into the pilot's seat, carefully keying in the commands to light the land thrusters. It took concentration to handle the thrusters, even after all the practise this hunt was giving him. Slowly, slowly. Up they went through the atmosphere, breaking orbit, and finally safe back in the stars. He set the flight to a slow impulse, then twisted the chair so he could look at 

Spock.

What brief triumph he had felt evaporated. Spock looked even worse under the familiar light of a Starship than he had in the Orion’s cell. He wasn’t skeletal, not that bad. But he was drained empty. He pushed himself up, dragging a slip of paper from the bag under the console and walked to the bed, to the lifesigns board at its head. He typed in the code and the screen lit up with the familiar biosign monitors. He bit his lip, all of them were in the piece of red lower than the green. He looked down at Spock, hoping that it was simply a deep healing trance which sent the readings awry in such a manner. At least He couldn’t be misled that it was Spock’s hybrid psycology at any rate he mused as he tucked the paper away safely. That code had activated the settings McCoy had established as Spock’s baseline, one of the few things he’d brought from San Francisco. He scanned the readings, wishing he’d thought to bring the healing trance numbers which must have been in the medical record somewhere. But no, he'd been in too much of a hurry to be a hero.

* * *

__

The cabin was dim to simulated earth night time, enough fogged light to work by but dull enough to allow the brain to sleep. Jim sat in the console chair, his eyes directed not at his station but at the med bed. He had Spock, surely that was something to be proud of. He’d gone around Starfleet’s back, found the trail, followed it and rescued him. But all he could see was that his job was not done, that his First Officer was in terrible condition, needed medical attention beyond what the med bed and small medkit could do. He had no idea what had been done to Spock by the Orions, in spite of all their protestations to the contrary, those injuries didn’t just appear and no Vulcan would injure themselves deliberately.

_ Go to sleep Kirk...If his readings have changed in the morning, then make your decision. _ The voice sounded like Mallory, practical and calm teacher that he had been. He shook his head at the circles he was running, checked that bed was set to raise an alert if, god forbid, the life signs dropped to a critical level. This time he let his hand brush some of the straggly hair from Spock’s face, neatening him up to an approximation of the spotless Vulcan he’d known for five years. It didn’t help one jot. He sighed, settling back into the chair and stretching out his legs, determined to get some sleep.

* * *

__

There was no change in the markers on the screen. This time he settled himself on the cold floor by the biobed to work out the next plan of action. Technically, due to the lack of change, he could take Spock back to Vulcan the way he himself had come, hoping Spock would hold steady. 

He shook his head even at the thought. Too risky medically… 

__

But the other option… It was sheer stupidity. He’d be inviting a war, and walking straight into the mouth of death himself. It wasn’t logical to risk thousands of lives for the sake of one Vulcan. 

His hand slammed into the bulkhead in frustration, he curled his fingers over his stinging palm. In his heart there was no contest. In law...

He looked up at Spock as he had done so often over the five years. Spock who had always been his grounding his voice of reason. And once again, decision came. It was mad, it was probable suicide, but it meant survival rather than likely death. He pushed himself to his feet and keyed in a course alteration. He wouldn't lose Spock. Whatever it took.

* * *

__

He keyed in the code to draw up the tactical map and the viewscreen switched from the starry view. A map which showed the blinking dot of Fidelia inexorably approaching a thick line.

This was suicidal… Physical suicide, not just his career. But Spock…

He took a deep breath

_ There is no neutral zone on this side, and they have to allow some trade ships surely _

_ Fidelia isn't a Federation vessel, even I'd she is registered to a member planet. And for what it's worth, I'm going behind the federation back in doing this, I have no sanctions from them. _

Logical reasoning, hair splitting but probably sound even for a Vulcan. The trouble was, Romulans were not Vulcan, even if they came from the same root. He knew they had a connection with their kin, and that they believed in the honour of their empire. One side for him, another against. His hands wavered over the helm turning controls, then he set them back on the rest board. The distance counter ticked down, alarm lights flashing as the figures dropped to four figures, then three.

His heart thumped loudly in his chest, responding even to stimulus he thought he had been trained against. But then the draw of space been the frisson from going out into the unknown. He couldn't get more unknown than the far side of the neutral zone.

_ Neee. _

He hadn't realized how strung up he was until the cry of the hailing system made him leap as if he'd been stung.

The voice came before he could answer it

"Unidentified ship, be warned you are 100 km from the Romulan Empire, it is advised that you alter your course unless you have permit and good reason to be here.”

He took a long breath steadying his heart. The moment had come “Computer, return audio and offer visual connection.”

“Visual connection accepted. “

The tactical map disappeared to be replaced with a ship’s bridge not that dissimilar to his own, border patrol in this sector was apparently either punishment duty or a job for a small ship. The Romulan captain turned towards him and all the planned arguments flew out of his head.

“You died!”

The Romulan, a spitting image of Sarek, looked back at him “We meet again, Captain James T. Kirk.”

“You have me at a disadvantage Sir. You know my name, yet I do not know yours.”

“I would advise that you turn around captain, another minute and you will cross our borders, by stipulation of treaty you will then either be a spy or committing an act of war.”

There was pain in the commander’s eyes, longing “There has been too much war”

He shook his head “I can’t.”

“You spy? Turn around! You are too honourable for that filth” There was scorn, but also desperation in the Romulan's face and voice. It was extremely disconcerting to see something so close to a vulcan in appearance, with such strong emotions in voice and posture.

He keyed in the commands which would angle the camera towards the med bed.

"I need to get Spock to Vulcan, to healers. The fastest way is across your empire."

He watched the Romulan study Spock, a deep knowledge in his eyes "He is fading” 

He had thought as much but to hear it confirmed was another wrench at the invisible knife. The Romulan's eyes came back to him "If I demanded payment for this assistance?"

He swallowed to clear the lump in his throat "I offer myself as hostage.a one commander to another. The Federation knows nothing of this, I come on my own responsibility."

The commander nodded, the pensive look which came over his face only heightening the resemblance to Sarek 

"Any of my compatriots who might have met you would have considered this nothing more than exceptional cover for a spying mission Kirk..." He nodded "I will help you… Fly in tight under my ship so that the cloaking will cover us both. Hold that position and it will be assumed that I am escorting you in to a base.

Jim let out a long, almost silent sigh, and ignored the voice which was murmuring in his ear about gift horses, cueing the impulse engines. The ship floated forwards towards the small cruiser, causing lights all over the display to flash in furious, but silent reproach. One by one, he logged and deactivated them until the display returned to normal. The Romulan watched in silence as he maneuvered the ship so it rode under the literal wings of the bird of prey 

"In position."

"Heading 235.1”

He keyed it in, “Heading aye”. The Romulan raised an eyebrow but it was so instinctive from his time as a yeoman down on the helm, before he’d made it to captain

“Full impulse, then warp on my mark

Full impulse”

“Warp”

The stars blurred.

* * *

The ships scythed through space. Even if he had been seeing the stars in their normal places, Jim knew it wouldn't mean anything. He was, as far as Federation was concerned, in uncharted space. 'Somewhere in France' indeed.

He looked to the view screen and on to the Romulan ship.

"I thought you were dead. The ship blew, no sign of escape pods."

The Romulan settled in his seat "Escape is permitted if you have information which will be of value to the Empire. It is not favoured, but it is permitted. I believed that your conduct was worthy of mention captain, so I did so." It was not well received by the Empire and I was assigned the rear border duty, to keep me out of mind and out of the ability t cause our glorious Preator any more trouble with my views.”

You know my name 

For That I can thank Commander Charvanek… You remember her Captain Kirk?”

There could only be one Romulan to answer to it. "I do."

“She also reported your conduct, less complimentary than myself as I am sure you can understand, but that you were a commander who understood the rules even of  underhand war such as the one you conducted.”

“I’m not proud of it, but your cloaking devices cause us much trouble, we wanted to even the playing field. Orders were orders.”

The Romulan inclined his head “I understand, it was much the same with my mission. We were sent to lure you, to destroy your bases. He looked down at his lap, we were sent to create the conditions for war. I did not wish to do so… there has been too much war.

He under all the words, the entire story, Jim began to hear what the Romulan was not saying, that he was under a level of disgrace and no longer trusted by his people, whatever rank he had held. “You are taking a great risk in helping us.”

He saw the Romulan’s eyes flick away from him, towards Spock on the med bed “The Vulcans are our kin, even if they choose to ignore that fact.” His eyes flicked back with a disturbing intensity, pain clear there “I also lost my _t’hy’la_ , Kirk, and I would not wish that on anyone except my worst enemy, certainly not someone I would be glad to call a friend.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

__

The visual link between the ships was still active, and he sat watching his viewscreen. He had been impressed by the captain’s skill in their combat, and humbled by his manner. Kirk had issued a surrender order, but he had tried to help too. No doubt, had he accepted, any injured crew would have been treated with all due diligence, to keep them alive, and not just for political reasons. Kirk lay on the ship’s floor, cushioned from the hardness by blankets. He wasn’t sure if there was a sleeping compartment on the small ship, the human had never made use or indication of it. Now, his bed bundle was right next to the med bed on which lay the Vulcan, half Vulcan he corrected himself as he remembered Charvanek’s report... his former first officer. No, he hadn’t erred in using that word to describe what they had between them. There was campaign loyalty, and there was the bond between warriors which went even deeper than that. But perhaps he had been foolish to use it so openly. It was an old thing, from before the Sundering of the eagles, it was probable that the Vulkansu did not use the term any more, with their vaunted emphasis on logic. There was nothing logical about T’hy’la.

The dead bond throbbed and he allowed himself a brief memory of Crispus; alive and smiling, always there for him, sensing what he did not say. At least he could do something, and grant these what he could not have himself.

* * *

__

The bridge alarms were wailing again, the lights flashing to the point they mimicked one of the wilder old earth discos he had seen on films. He slammed the override button with more force than it perhaps warranted

Everything fell silent. 

The Romulan blinked at him and spock across the connection with apparently unruffled calm “Slowing to quarter impulse.”

“Quarter impulse aye”

“Computer, split view between link and tactical. “Sure enough, hundreds of kilometers off their noses was the Romulan side of the neutral zone. It had taken two weeks, but they had made it, unchallenged and unscratched.

“Kirk.”He looked to the link side, to see the Romulan looking wary “I can go no further, and you must go now before a patrol picks up the disturbance of the warp signature and comes hunting.”

He nodded “Thank you for this…” It was only then that he realised he still didn’t know the commander's name.

The Romulan smiled, not a lear or a wolf snarl, but an honest kind smile “Marenus...of House Sharin Tathi.”

Carefully, Jim made a fist and touched it’s small side to his chest in a sharp movement , the salute he remembered giving and receiving on Charvanek’s ship “Live Long and Prosper, Marenus.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Marenus raised his hand to  the view screen, his fingers splitting into the Ta’al “Peace and long life to you both, Kirk… Now Go!”

Jim nodded, fired the impulse engines forward and deactivated the contact link between the ships. 

When he switched to a rear veiw, it was just in time to see the War-Bird curve away, then disappear as it’s cloaking device activated. The words came unbidden to his lips “Fly safe, friend.”

* * *

__

It was one thing to get into the Neutral Zone, another to get out of it.

“Who goes there.”

The challenge rang out of the speaker and he triggered the visual link to the border watch station, Outpost Four of all ironies 

 “Admiral James T. Kirk, Starfleet.”

There was a momentary pause, no doubt as all the visual and voice print authorisation went through, then the officer nodded “You may proceed.”

* * *

__

“This is Fidelia AN-537, calling any Vulcan ship.” The call came out of complete silence, on the Vulcan transmission link. Most strange, the registration prefix meant that it was an Antares ship, not one of theirs.

“AN-537, This is Vulcan ship  _ T’ Planahath _ …”

The human’s voice cut over his, sounding very relieved,“Thank God…

“Who is this?”

“James T. Kirk…. I have something which belongs to you, and I hope you have healers aboard.”

“Where are you?”

There was a pause as the human seemed to scrabble for the information “ah, two days out from outpost four on the neutral Zone, heading for Vulcan, Warp 4”

Behind him, Selek heard the captain giving the orders to change their course and increase their speed, dropping from the grid search to a dash. “Understood Fidelia, estimated contact in two days.”

“I look forward to it. Fidelia out.”

* * *

__

_ T’Planahath _ was a gorgeous ship to look at, even if she was inclined to a spiky design rather than the more graceful curves of the Starfleet registries. But then even a fifth rate garbage scow would have been beautiful. Political disasters aside, Jim wished he’d returned the favour and smuggled Marenus and his ship across the border. To see a ship on his scanners and his screen, to be going towards it not hiding from it, was heaven. Following the relayed instructions, he hedged Fidelia onto one of the docking ports, hearing and feeling the clunk as the braces locked home. He let his head drop into his hands, suddenly exhausted and feeling all his strength unravel.

It was done.

The door whirred open and suddenly the ship was a heaving mass of Vulcans as people he could only assume where healers swarmed around the med-bed, scanning and studying Spock. 

He pushed himself back against the consoles instinctively, his mind recoiling from the sudden press where there had been space and peace only moments before. This was too much stimulation for his senses, too many people his eyes wanted to focus on. He couldn’t see Spock, only three Vulcan backs pressed shoulder to shoulder, the hum of conversation and the bleep of medical scanners. And he could only watch numbly as the hoard bore Spock away in their numbers, sweeping away into the ship.

* * *

__

Sarek waited at the docking port, his instinct warring with common sense. His son was on that ship, certainly injured, quite probably seriously. But it was only a small ship, if he boarded he would only be in the healers way. And if they needed someone with a Familial bond, that was Amanda, not him. He had let the childhood ties lapse as Spock grew… It was something he regretted now, in this moment.

The healers strode back down the docking ramp in a tightly packed rectangle, moving with the assertive pace which would see their way cleared before them. He flattened against the wall and let them pass, following them down the corridor with his eyes, only long enough to see Amanda leave her place at the other end to tail them. Then he turned, stepping through the lock and up the ramp into the ship.

Kirk was still sat in the pilot's chair, staring in his direction, but clearly more focused on the exiting mass of healers. He looked rather like a piece of fabric washed too long, all his colour gone apart from the smudges under his eyes. It was as strange moment to see the human snap back to the present, and make a ragged effort to get to his feet when he saw Sarek, Sarek waved him back down as he crossed the small space. It was logical to give some recognition to the effort the man had put in to retrieve his son from goodness knows what, but everything suddenly seemed too simple and cold.

“When did you last sleep Kirk?” T’Pol’s voice saved him, sharp and commanding.

Kirk blinked at her, as if he couldn’t quite understand the question “Sleep? Ah… Last day in the neutral zone?”

He glanced over and caught T’Pol’s eye, knowing what to do next. He stepped up to Kirk, gently touching fingers to his temple, closing his eyes and invoking the mental comand mind to mind

_ Sl..  _ He had barely started when the human sagged in the chair, all conscious muscle tension gone, his mind willing to take even the suggestion of the idea as an order.

Sarek opened his eyes and looked down at him. No, ‘thank you’ or ‘I am gratified’ would not have been enough for what this human had put himself through.

* * *

__

Soft… 

Quiet…

Stillness

Awareness gradually arrived to his senses, and his eyes peeled open. 

No med bed, no comforting bulk to his side, looming above him like a guardian. He sat bolt upright, staring around.  _ Spock… Spock where are you? _

He twisted to get up, and found himself falling instead, landing on the deck with a thump as he stared around.

This wasn’t Fidelia, there were no glows from the board of lights, the room was too big, he’d just fallen off something which didn’t happen when you slept on the floor.

_ Where where where _

He stared around in the gloom of the room. Orion? Romulan? Something glinted, and when he focused, he recognised a stylized metal IDIC on the wall. He let himself drop down from his kneeling half crouch, onto the floor as everything came flooding back. Crossing the boarder, landing on the Vulcan ship, the healers swarming and carrying Spock away, Sarek’s fingers on his temple.

_ Safe, you’re safe, Spock’s safe.  _ His heart began to slow back to normal pace, then snatched again Where was Spock?

He pushed himself back to his feet and picked up the blanket, tucking it under his arm. He wouldn’t sleep anymore, not with that thought ringing around his head. He walked across and activated the door, slipping out into a blank corridor. Logically he needed to find the heelers section, Spock would be there. 

“Kirk” 

He spun at the soft voice to see T’Pol standing there, leaning against the wall, wearing simple Vulcan robes.

She met his eyes, but didn’t give him a chance to speak “I will take you to him.”

* * *

__

Even if he had found the healer’s section he wouldn’t have been able to get in, he realised as T’Pol pressed her hand to a panel by the door and it slid open, revealing a corridor lined with wall chairs. Sarek was seated on one at the far end, head apparently bowed in meditation. As he got closer, Jim saw Amanda, asleep with her head on her husband’s lap, stretched along neighbouring chairs. He settled opposite them, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders out of habit, even though the ship was at Vulcan normal. As he did so, Sarek lifted his head and opened his eyes, meeting his glance and reading the question.

“They are still working on him Kirk.”

He nodded, studying the wear in the Vulcan’s face, wondering how on earth Amanda could be asleep in a situation like this. He thought he saw a brief spark of humour in the dark eyes as he inclined his head towards her.

Sarek’s voice was dry, but there was a warmth there which he remembered from the Enterprise sickbay “I insisted...Humans cannot go without sleep, especially with emotional stress” 

He managed a smile, thinking back to the gentle touch on _Fidelia_.

* * *

__

They sat there in silence for a while, his eyes fixed on the dip which marked the door to Spock’s room.

“Sarek. What does  _ T’hy’la _ mean?”

The Vulcan almost frowned, and he thought he might have heard a short breath from T’Pol.

“Who told you that word, Spock?”

He shook his head, remembering how naturally it had slipped out from Marenus “A Romulan captain helped me cross the neutral zone. He said that was why he helped us, but he never told me what he meant.”

There was a split second when he sensed significant look passing between Sarek and T’Pol, then the Ambassador was focused on him again “It is not my place to tell you Kirk. If Spock wishes you to know, he will tell you.

Jim found his eyes drawn back to the door, thinking what was beyond it, he didn’t focus on his words “And if he can’t?”

Sarek's voice was full of resignation and comfort for him “If the worst should happen... you will not wish to know.”

* * *

__

There was no clock, Vulcans didn’t need them with their innate timesense, he only had an idea that it was a very long time before the door opened to release a healer, offering half a glimpse into a sandy coloured room and a bed.

He fixed his eyes on the healer, aware of everyone doing the same and Amanda swinging to sit up, suddenly wide awake.

“Physically, the injuries are repairing… Mentally is also repairable but it will take more time.”

He wasn’t sure if he made any noise in reaction, his head was ringing with the words. Spock would be alright.

“May we see him?” Amanda’s voice was a demonstration of emotional control

The healer nodded “For a short while, he is sleeping.”

He watched Amanda and Sarek rise to their feet, then to his surprise she turned towards him and held out a hand. “Come Jim, you have as much right as we do.

He stood up, but let them lead into the room.

* * *

 

Spock lay on the bed, hands folded on his chest,  Now dressed in a medical gown rather than the meditation robe. He hung back as Amanda moved to her son’s side, gently covering his hands with her own, and then bending to give him a human kiss on the forehead. Sarek stood at her shoulder looking down at his son, face out of view. 

Her permission notwithstanding, Jim felt like a voyeur, witnessing the personal family gestures which should be private. He turned his gaze away, looking over the room, the array of equipment tucked to the side.

“Jim”

Amanda had stepped back and now he walked up to the bed, on the other side to them. Yes, this was more like the Spock he knew. Colour back in his skin, the bruises gone from his wrists, the skin on his forehead unblemished. Only marks on his hands, the thinness in his face and the raggedness of his fringe showed that he wasn’t the perfectly groomed first officer that Jim had spent five years with. He gently let his hand rest on Spock’s forearm, unable to summon words to say what he wanted to. Then slowly, aware he might be transgressing, but needing to do it, he moved his hand up until it rested atop Spock’s

“Spock…” Y _ ou are safe now, get better quickly _ … there were a thousand things he wanted to say, but his throat was closed up. The hand he wasn’t covering shifting just enough so that their two lead fingers crossed, then Spock’s curled tightly around his. He looked down at it for a long moment, then looked back up to Sarek and Amanda, who he found staring at him, or in Sarek’s case, doing his best to be inscrutable. 

Slowly he turned his head to the healer, still feeling the tightness of pressure on his fingers, unwilling and unable to move his hand “May I stay?”

The healer was looking at one of  the monitors, “Contact with you appears to have a beneficial effect on his mental emanations. Your continued presence would be logical.”

He looked down at Spock, at the fingers tightly curled around his own even as their owner slept, and aware that even if the healer had refused, he wasn’t going anywhere. 

* * *

__

Warm. No pain, softness underneath him. The supporting strength in his hand, something weighing down his covers to the left hand side. Slowly his eyes opened, the third eyelid blurring things as his pupils adjusted to the light level and took in his surroundings. He was on a Vulcan ship, in their medical section. 

Jim, JIM was kneeling by the bed, his head slumped onto the covers as he dozed.

“Jim…” His voice came out as a weak rasp, more air than word. Jim’s stirred, then his eyes opened

“Spock…” 

Any thoughts he’d had that this was a trance dream disappeared, the warmth, the pain mixed with relief and joy on Jim’s face, the light in his eyes, was too real. 

“I dreamed… you…” He swallowed and the words came easier “You helped me up, you moved me… Told me I could sleep.”

Jim nodded, blinking his eyes rapidly, clearly trying to ward off tears “Yes… Yes I did.” He watched as his captain swallowed.

“Why?”

Jim looked down at their hands, where their fingers were curled together, then back at him, deep into him, clearly begging him to understand “Do you really need to ask?”

No, no he didn’t, not when Jim was begging him to understand. He allowed his head to rock from side to side “No.”

Jim seemed to be drawing himself together, his face drawing back into a calmer more formal expression, pulling away slightly “I’ll go if you want.”

He found more strength in his voice “No… Stay… please…”

Jim nodded slowly, that gentle smile smile coming back “For as long as you want.”

_ Forever… _ But he didn’t speak it aloud, he couldn’t, not yet. And the arrival of the healers en-masse prevented him from trying, as they swarmed around checking the monitors and running scanners over him. They didn’t push Jim away from him, he realised, working around the man, unwilling to disturb him.

Then they were gone and his mother appeared, reaching out to his face, his father at her side, and T’Pol too. The same relief on all their faces as Jim’s.

It sank in. He was home, or as good as.

* * *

__

Even without turning, he knew it was Sarek who had entered the room. The long stride was distinctive.

“Kirk, T’Pau would speak with you.”

He looked to Spock and saw the Vulcan’s eyebrow rise slightly, his head shift in assent to his leaving. “She who must be obeyed.”

Spock’s lip quirked slightly, but he made no other reaction. Jim stood up, following Sarek out of the room and into the ship’s multitude of corridors, managing not to look back  on the threshold.

__

T’Pau looked as regal as ever on the comm screen as he raised his hand in Salute.

She responded in kind, but looked over his shoulder “Sarek, who guards the young one?”

_ Young One?  _ It could only be Spock they refered too, but it was strange to hear it. Spock was a grown adult.

Sarek must have expected the question “Amanda and T’Pol.”

Clearly that passed muster, for T’Pau nodded “That is well, one the mother, one as close as can be.” Then Jim found himself under the full focus of her gaze once more “Kirk, I offer thanks for what you have done for my clan. It is no small thing.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try...It is at least three quarters my fault he was out there anyway.” 

He heard Sarek shift behind him and T’Pau arched an eyebrow, “Perhaps.” Her tone became more business like “You will be aware that I have received transmissions regarding you from Starfleet command.”

“Go on” He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear them, but better to get it all over and done with.

“You are listed as having overstayed your leave without proper permission...That you will be reduced in rank and must be transported to San Francisco immediately to face discipline for flouting the chain of command. Then there is the small matter of breaching the Romulan neutral zone.”

In other words once he was returned to earth, he’d be in civilian clothes before you could say Spock “They are all perfectly legitimate assertions Lady T’Pau.”

T’Pau didn’t acknowledge him “Of course, as the healers have informed me, it would be significantly detrimental for you to be removed from Spock at this time, so you will remain with him until this is not so. Then we will see. If you do not wish to remain in Starfleet, I am sure that T’Pol would take on a second mate on her scout ship, and she has always had an affinity with humans.”

This wasn’t happening. T’Pau exerting her influence to not only shield him from Starfleet discipline, when she should hand him over as soon as they hit the planet, but offering him a respectable job to replace it. He became aware that he was sitting there with his mouth slightly open.

T’Pau actually seemed amused “We are logical, not bound to Starfleet’s every word Kirk.” She shifted something on her desk “Now, regarding this neutral zone, there is no corresponding report of you entering past the earth outposts and your ship's log suggests that you found Spock on the far side of the Empire. Logically, you must have crossed the full expanse of Romulan Space. Explain?”

He allowed himself a smile “Does the House name Sharin Tathi mean anything to you?”

The absolute controlled inscrutability of T’Pau’s face was all he needed for an answer.

* * *

__

“You can stay?”

Jim nodded “Your Clan Mother is going to delay Starfleet as much as she can.”

He watched as Jim looked away staring at the walls “ It doesn’t really matter, I’ll be  _ persona non grata _ there in a few months just as much as I am now, and it wasn’t like i didn’t expect it.”

“You came after me, knowing you might be giving up everything?”

Jim shrugged “What’s an admiral desk I hated compared to the life of someone I’ve served with for five years?” Now Spock saw his eyes, full of self remorse “It’s my fault you were out there anyway… If I hadn’t been so tipsy and foolish with it…” He looked away again speaking more to himself “I should have kept my mouth shut”

Spock “No Jim, you were not foolish. I was. I examined my feelings and I ran from them. It was that which put me on the shuttle.” He steadied his emotions and his courage, curling his fingers back around Jim’s, feeling him start at the gesture “I was wrong to run… If you re-iterated that question now, I can assure you you would have a different answer.”

Jim looked back at him “What do you mean Spock?”

He tightened the grip of his fingers “The only thing which kept me going, out there, was exactly what I had been frightened by. My refuge was to remember the times we had together on Enterprise, how much you meant to me.”

Jim’s eyes were full of tears, threatening to spill, even as he was smiling

“I loved you when you asked, I just didn’t realise it…” Slowly, every muscle aching, he raised the other hand towards Jim’s face “But what we have is more than that. For me to be aware of you, when I was so far buried. That is t’hy’la.

Even as he caught the hand with his own, grasping it gently, Jim frowned, a tension coming into his face, frustration, annoyance “T’hy’la?”

“A bond that predates Surak, it translated roughly as someone who is friend brother and lover… Knowing more of earth culture, I would suggest soulmate.”

The frustration disappeared and Jim returned both his grips, one with fingers, the other with his whole hand “If it means being side by side with you for the rest of my life, I don’t care how it translates.”

Spock let himself smile, feeling a rush of acceptance through the ghost bond “In simple terms I love you Jim.”

“ _ Taluhk nash-veh k'dular”  _ The pronunciation was appalling, but the sentiment was true __  
  


**Author's Note:**

> AN  
> There might actually be a historical precedent for Marenus' behaviour in the behaviour of a Luftwaffe flyer called Charlie Steigler
> 
> All comments welcome, and any proofreading too, as I failed to find a beta due to my erratic schedule writing this


End file.
